Another Notebook
by Twinings
Summary: Once upon a time, there were a number of questions with very few answers. Does anyone live happily after? [Notebook Six]
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Batman in any form, unfortunately. And since I'm not sure I ever actually gave credit..._

_The Purple-Covered Notebook was inspired by the story "Jangletown" in _The Further Adventures of the Joker._ Mine was the upbeat version, believe it or not. The Wide-Ruled Notebook and The New Purple Notebook were inspired by "The Sound of One Hand Clapping" in _The Further Adventures of Batman. _Actually, the whole series was inspired by both stories, as well as much of the Joker/Harley interaction in the animated series, but you know what I'm saying. These stories were never intended to be true Joker Romance of Fluffy Clown Doom. And Liss seems to be seeing that more and more as the series progresses, but who's to say if she'll ever really get over that disturbing old infatuation, as wrong as even she knows it is._

_As for Lexy and the Scarecrow, their rather complicated relationship was begun in Night of the Scarecrow, chapter three of the story begun in A Savage Pantsing. I lurve tying this together._

_By the way, this takes place immediately after The Mildewed Notebook, and about six years after Night of the Scarecrow. Yays, enjoy.

* * *

_

Another Notebook

Or

Really…Just Another Notebook

_Dear Jonathan,_

_I really miss you._

_I got married. I sent you a letter, but I don't know if you ever got it. I don't know if what I really wanted was for you to give me away, or to stop me from making such a stupid mistake. It wasn't a good marriage. He wasn't a good man._

_It's funny, I didn't really wake up and smell the coffee until the last time you escaped Arkham. You were all over the news. I couldn't stop thinking about you._

_I realized how much I hate this normal life you wanted for me. I realized I was tired of living in fear._

_So the next time he hit me, I shot him. And the fear just went away._

_He's still alive, but I know he'll never touch me again._

_Normal life, my ass, Jonathan. I hate it. I would still go with you in a second if you would take me._

_So when something happened to the Riddler, I thought I could save him. He needed help, and you know I'm…how did you put it? A sucker for a wounded puppy? But the reason I went after him is because you once told me you counted him as a friend._

_Was I wrong about that? We were all affected by your fear toxin down there. I don't know if you were out to kill him, or if you just got him by accident, or what._

_I'm sending a friend to see you. She has some questions that I hope you'll be willing to answer. If you want the Riddler, she'll tell you where to find him. If you want him to kill him, I hope you'll be daunted by the fact that you'll have to go through me to get him._

_If you want me, for any reason, you know where to find me. I wish you would take me with you. You know I want to come._

_I miss you._

_Love,_

_Lexy_

--

And I thought my boss was a nutcase.

I followed Lexy's directions to the Scarecrow's lair. He has wonderful taste in abandoned buildings. This one was the office of the _Gotham Herald,_ before the _Times_ put them out of business. It still smells like ink and newsboy sweat.

I found the Scarecrow sitting at the old editor's desk, reading a book. Lexy said he would be working alone, so I approached him carefully, but I didn't watch my rear. Stupid.

A couple of goons grabbed me. He didn't even look up. One of them pulled off my mask.

"There was a little girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her forehead." He closed his book, stood up, and very calmly walked around the desk to stand in front of me. "When she was good she was very, very good, but when she was bad, she was horrid."

He opened his book again, and hit me with a cloud of fear gas.

I don't remember much after that until one of the goons gave me the antidote. He used to work for me. Nice kid. He vouched for me. That combined with Lexy's creepy letter was enough to convince the Scarecrow I was okay.

When I came to, he was holding my new notebook.

"Georgie Porgie, puddin' and pie." He looked at me expectantly. "Kissed the girls and made them cry. But when the boys came out to play…"

"Uh-huh…"

"Georgie Porgie ran away." He sounded disappointed that I wouldn't finish his rhyme.

This is the Master of Fear? This is the man Lexy spoke so highly of and called her dearest friend?

Insanity. This goes beyond my experience, and that's saying something.

"Dr. Crane—"

"Scarecrow."

"You're the boss. Scarecrow, I just came to talk. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't gas me again."

"Hmm?"

I figured I should try a different approach.

"Beans, beans, good for the heart, the more you eat, the more—"

"Don't do that," he said.

"Oh, so you can speak normally."

"And you can make crude jokes. What of it?"

"My boss sent me down to the sewers a couple of days ago. I ended up blowing up part of the city because I'd been affected by your fear toxin."

"Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg, the Batmobile lost a wheel and the Joker—"

"Yes!" I was starting to get a headache. "The Joker torched the sewers for me. He's…well, he was my boss."

"Fascinating. What did you see down there?"

"I saw…what do you care what I saw? We have more important things to talk about."

"The king was in his counting house, counting out his money. The queen was in the parlor, eating bread and honey. The maid was in the garden, hanging up the clothes, when down came a blackbird and snipped off her nose."

"What the hell are you talking about, sir?" He sighed.

"Fool girl. I don't do what I do just for the money. I want to _study_ the effects of fear."

Oh. Right. Of course.

"I take a notebook with me everywhere I go. Even in the sewers, I kept my records. You want to know how I felt? Answer my questions and I'll let you read my diary."

He chuckled with glee.

"Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey. Along came a spider and sat down beside her and frightened Miss Muffet away."

"Please. _Please_. Can that nursery rhyme noise."

I think he frowned, but I couldn't quite tell. Mask.

"Pull up a tuffet and ask your questions, child." He definitely sounded annoyed. I sat down.

"Did you attack the Riddler?"

"Not I."

"Do you know who did?"

"Too many cooks spoil the broth."

"No wonder you two get along so well. Neither one of you likes to talk plain English if you can think of something more confusing to say."

"Maybe, but Lexy's use of the word 'friend' was a slight exaggeration."

"Does that mean you don't want to take him off our hands?"

"If Lexy has him, he's in the best hands he could be in."

"What is she to you?"

"A friend."

"A friend like the Riddler?"

"A real friend. Don't we have more important things to talk about?"

"Don't sass me, Dr. Crane."

"Scarecrow."

"Scarecrow. Did you target us?"

"No."

"Hit us at random?"

"No."

"What, then?"

"Do you want the short answers or the interesting ones?" I resisted the urge to hit him with my tuffet.

"Look, if you don't have anything useful to tell me, then give me back my mask so I can go home. I'll just wait for the damn Riddler to wake up. Even he couldn't be this aggravating."

"Irritating."

Oh. My. God. He corrected my fucking grammar.

"Irritating is right! Goodbye, Dr. Crane."

"Scarecrow."

"Crane."

"Scarecrow."

"Crane!"

"Scarecrow!"

"Crane!"

"Scarecrow!"

"Crane, Crane, Crane, Crane, Crane, Crane, Crane, Crane, Crane!"

We went on like that for a couple of minutes, until he gassed me again. I've got to stop relying on my charm to get me through.

Hell, I've got to learn to stop antagonizing the masks. One of these days I'm going to push the wrong button, and kaboom. No more Liss of the Many Identities.

I dreamed about Mark's eyes and woke, sobbing, in Lexy's bed.

"You finally stopped screaming." (Actually, it sounded a bit more like "You fnnllrgh strrp scrrrmng," but it makes me sad to write it like that.)

I sat up and looked around, and sure enough, there was Eddie—the Riddler—perched on a chair.

He looks much better now than the last time I saw him. Still very pale and banged-up, and the poor guy's jaw has been wired shut, but hey, he's not only awake but sitting up under his own power. And now that the shattered jawbone has a little reinforcement, he can talk without worrying about something popping out.

Honestly, I'm happy for him.

"Eddums! Feeling better?"

That took him by surprise, which made me feel better.

He flinched when I threw off the covers and stood up, which made me feel worse.

"What do you want?" He sounded scared of me.

"First I want to know what I'm doing here. Then I want to know what you're doing here. Then I want to know anything else you have to say to me." I tried to sound patient and gentle. He didn't buy it. I'm out of practice with the patient and gentle.

"Scarecrow gassed you. He didn't feel like giving you the antidote."

"So he brought me here?"

"Of course. There's no one in Gotham City to be trusted more than Lexy."

Hm. Interesting.

"How come I've never heard of this girl?"

"That's an easy one. She's exactly what she seems."

"What, a Normal?"

"If that's what you want to call it."

(I could have called her a fleshie, but that's not my thing.)

"So how do you know her?"

"_I_ don't. I told you, she's one of _them._ But she and Scarecrow go way back."

"In what way?"

"Now, that is the riddle, isn't it?"

"Is that your way of saying you don't know?"

I don't know how that intimidated him. I mean, look at me. I'm a tiny little woman. Barely 5'2". I don't have the Bat's deep, menacing voice. I don't have the boss's creepy clown face. I don't even have a gimmick. The best I've got is a couple of years' training in aikido, and it's not like you can tell that by looking at me.

And let's not forget, he had just seen me in an extremely vulnerable position, crying and screaming, "no, no, no," in my sleep.

I don't think I could have been less threatening if I had tied a pink bow in my hair and gone, "Squeeee!"

But something about me frightened him, because when I moved closer, he pulled away like he'd been burned.

"Look," I said, "if I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already. Remember the sewers? I _could_ have left you down there."

"What about your boss?"

"He threw me out of a helicopter yesterday. I'm not speaking to him right now. Besides, I haven't really worked for him in a couple of years. I was just returning a favor, going after you. He didn't even tell me what he wants from you."

"The same thing you're trying so very subtly to get out of me right now. The same thing everyone always wants from me. The answer to a riddle. You stare at it and stare at it until your forehead sweats blood, but the answer never comes. So you turn to the Riddler for answers. That's cheating, you know."

"I guess. Do what you gotta do, right? If winning is that important, there's nothing else you can do. I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me what I want to know without any special persuasion, though." I didn't mention that I played a big part in saving his life. If he feels like he owes me for that, good. If not, that's fine, too. I didn't mention that if he has any information for me, I could always beat it out of him. I'd rather not go that way if I can avoid it. I didn't mention how much I'd be willing to pay him. If he's motivated by greed, he'll name his own price.

Leave the choice up to him.

"The Joker lost a lot of credibility when he didn't kill you. You know you've gone soft when you start taking in children."

"I wasn't a child. Besides, Batman works with kids, and I don't see anyone calling him soft."

"He's different, though, isn't he? Keep that in mind. You'll never know your enemy until you know yourself."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" He shrugged.

"I'm the Riddler. You know I can't just give you all the answers." I tried modulating my voice.

"How about you give me this answer: what would the Joker do to you if I followed my orders?" A look of abject terror flashed across his face. That was all the answer I needed. I headed for the door. "Don't worry, Eddie. If he finds you, I swear it won't be through me. There is some honor among thieves."

"I…I'm supposed to keep you in here until after the Scarecrow leaves."

"And you take orders from that clown?" Unintentional choice of wording. I did choose not to embarrass him by pointing out that he didn't look strong enough to stop me.

He followed me out to the kitchen, where Lexy and the Scarecrow were sitting at the table. Lexy was weeping brokenheartedly.

"Hey, diddle diddle," the Scarecrow said comfortingly, "the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon. The little dog laughed to see such sport, and the dish ran away with the spoon."

"And what's wrong with that? I _like_ the spoon," she said.

"Shh. We have company."

Lexy stood up, suddenly brisk and businesslike.

"Nice job, Liss. You said you could handle yourself."

"You didn't tell me he was so infuriating. Gas me again, Crane, and I'll kick your scrawny, straw-covered ass."

"Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how—"

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!" Lexy said. Eddie looked back and forth between the three of us like a spectator at a fast-paced three-way ping pong deathmatch.

"_You _shut up," I yelled.

"Don't yell at me, and don't yell at Jonathan!"

"Stupid fangirl!"

"Clown whore!"

"All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel," the Scarecrow sang. "The monkey thought 'twas all in fun…" I ducked when he threw a silver ball at me. It smashed against the wall, releasing a cloud of white powder.

"I fucking _told_ you!" I punched him in the face, totally forgetting that his Scarecrow mask doubles as a gas mask. I connected with some hard plastic.

Fuck. That hand hasn't been quite up to speed since I broke it on Superman's face a year and a half ago.

I hurt myself more than I hurt him, but he still fell, sprawling over the kitchen table. Lexy grabbed hold of my hair and hauled me back, like she thought I was going to throw myself on him and rip him limb from limb. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eddie backing slowly out of the room.

"Edward! Sit! Stay!" Lexy ordered. "I made soup! And the four of us are going to sit here and eat it and have a conversation like civilized people if I have to tie you all down and cram it down your throats!"

"Lexy, we've said all we have to say to each other," the Scarecrow said, struggling to sit up. Maybe I did hurt him a little.

"Damn it, Jonathan, I said I made soup, and you are _not _leaving until you eat some of it."

Damn. The fleshie has balls.

"You kids enjoy your little party," I said. "Let go of my hair."

"You're not leaving. You're having soup." Pushy little bitch.

"I'm not eating with that woman," said the Scarecrow.

"Oh, like I really want to eat with _you_."

Eddie said something to the effect of, "Nnnnnn-soup."

"I don't want to hear it! SIT."

I sat. They sat. She started serving up the soup.

Scarecrow had to take off his mask to eat. Gosh, what a pretty face. Big blue eyes, a delicate bone structure…yeah, now I know what Lexy sees in him.

It occurs to me that a guy like him, unarmed and all, never would have made it through Arkham intact. It's as bad as prison, the boss says. Poor guy. Nobody's going to mess with the Joker, but I bet scrawny little shrimps like Jonathan and Eddie had to be extra careful with their soap.

Doesn't mean I like the guy, mind you. But I did apologize grudgingly for splitting his lip. I even used a napkin to help him stop the bleeding. (He does have a pretty mouth.)

"That's better," Lexy said. "Thank the woman, Jonathan." He glared at me.

"Little Jack Horner sat in the corner, eating his Christmas pie. He stuck in his thumb and pulled out a plum and said, 'What a good boy am I.'"

Jerk.

"Old Mother Hubbard sat in her cupboard, eating Jack's Christmas pie. He opened the door, let out a great roar, and blackened the old woman's eye," I replied.

"Am I going to have to separate you two?" Lexy put a steaming bowl of vegetable beef soup in front of each of us.

Eddie's, of course, was just plain broth. She gave him a big plastic syringe with a rubber tube on the end. I watched him suck up some of the liquid, put the tube in his mouth, and squirt. Saddest thing I've seen all day. When he looked at us using our spoons, his sad little face could have melted Mr. Freeze's heart.

Someone needs a hug.

"Now, don't you crazy kids have anything to say to each other?" Lexy asked.

Grr.

"What? I already said I was sorry for hitting him."

"Not _that_. Tell her, Jonathan." He smirked at me.

"Tom, Tom, the piper's son stole a pig and away he run." I resisted the urge to throw meat at him.

"Dr. Crane?"

"Scarecrow."

My fingers clenched around my spoon.

"Look, you can call yourself His Majesty, the King of Cartoons for all I care. All I want is for you to talk to me like you're not a total psycho." He gave me the dead look I've heard so much about.

"Didn't you go to school? You should have been taught to think critically. Read between the lines. Someone stole my toxin and sprayed it on our Edward's clothes, worked him over, and dumped him in the sewer, knowing that even if his injuries didn't kill him immediately, the fear would keep him trapped, and any number of the enemies he's been so brazenly collecting lately might come along to finish the job, whereas any poor fool who actually tried to help him would be affected by the toxin. Is that clear enough, Chuckles, or would you like me to illustrate the Little Golden Books edition for you?"

"No," said Eddie. "More to it than that. He wouldn't steal from you without taking you, too. He wouldn't miss a chance like that. He wants you more than he wants me."

"Oh, that's right." The Scarecrow sounded bored. "You still haven't told us who did this to you. I'd like to solve the puzzle, Pat."

"Why was the law student afraid to go to court?"

Because he had to test-ify…Oh." Scarecrow's face went so pale, I thought he was going to faint. "Lock-Up."

"Lock-Up."

"Lock-Up?" I repeated.

"Lock-Up."

"Lock-Up?"

"Lock-Up."

"Lock-Up. Huh. I'm guessing that's some kind of key-themed villain type?" No. "Hero?"

"He would call himself a hero," Scarecrow said. His voice was steady, but I could see his hands trembling until he clasped them under the table. "He was head of security at Arkham, a few years before your time. He was fired for using 'extreme' methods to keep the inmates in line. He tried the same methods on the wrong people outside Arkham and earned himself five years in a padded cell."

"And now he's escaped?"

Eddie laughed at me.

"Lock-Up escape? He was rehabilitated."

"This never would have happened when I was running Arkham," the Scarecrow said.

"If he was rehabilitated, what's he doing beating up on Eddie?" Lexy asked.

"We've all been rehabilitated and released at least once. Some of us change; most of us just change our methods."

"So, Lock-Up…"

"Has seen the error of his ways. He's not interested in locking us up anymore. He just wants to kill us." Poor Eddums looked sick.

"Who's 'us?'" asked Lexy.

"Everyone who gave him any trouble at Arkham. Then Gordon, Dr. Bartholomew, Summer Gleeson, Mayor Hill, and maybe Batman."

"But first, us," Eddie added. "Or, rather, first you. He wants the three who got him fired. The only reason he got me first was pure, dumb luck. He never did like to miss a golden opportunity." _Glldnn opprtrrnty._

"How did you get him fired, Scarecrow?" (That was my peace offering, calling him by his chosen name. By this time, I was starting to feel sorry for the guy. Damn protective urges.)

"He had a habit of preying on the weak, the small ones with no natural weapons. Us, the Ventriloquist…"

"The Joker?"

Yeah, I know. Only an idiot would actually care about him after all this. But every time I think of him, I just…I see him the way he looked that day I saw him in Arkham, when they were taking him back to his cell after electroshock therapy, and he was straitjacketed and strapped down and filled so full of drugs he could barely see, and he looked up at me with those big green eyes and said…What was it he said?

I remember I slapped him. At the time, I thought I actually hurt him. I left a mark.

I also slipped a little something in his straitjacket. My glorious beginning. Woo.

So, Eddie laughed at me again.

"Nobody messes with the Joker. He wasn't even in Arkham then. He was smart enough to stay out. Lock-Up did have quite a thing for the Joker's girl, though."

"Harley?"

Okay, that pissed me off a little bit. I mean, Harley Quinn is a sweet girl. She's nicer than most of my "normal" friends, friendlier than the "good guys" I've known, the cutest little henchgirl I've ever seen. She's kind of my friend.

"She, Wesker, and I spoke out against him at the hearing. He never got his revenge. He'll want it."

Right.

"Will he be willing to go through Scarface's gang, or will he take the easier targets first?" Three pairs of eyes turned to me. What, were they really surprised that I wanted to help? Is my reputation really that bad? Just because the only guy I've ever really worked with was the boss?

"Scarface and the dummy will be last. He'll come at us when we're alone."

"And since I assume he won't trace you to this place, Harley will be the one he hits first."

"But she's safe with the Joker. Even Lock-Up couldn't get to her there."

"Your information is out of date. They're on the outs. Harley will be over at Toxic Acres with Poison Ivy."

"Does he have anything against Poison Ivy?" Lexy asked.

"No, but he has nothing for her, either. She wasn't one of his patients, but he wouldn't hesitate to kill her. She's still one of the bad guys."

"Then we should head over. Everybody got a gas mask?"

They all stared at me. Fucking hell, my rep really is that bad.

"Forgive my rudeness, but what do you care?" Eddie asked me. I felt my face go all hot.

"I can't imagine why I would care that a friend of mine is about to be brutally murdered. Or why I would care that a nice guy like you is eating soup through a rubber straw. What do I care? I don't like seeing bullies beating up on little boys half their size. Something about it brings out the bitch in me, I guess."

Cue the dramatic music.

The first time I ever got in a real good hand-to-hand fight, I had never even heard of the Joker. I was maybe eight or nine years old, maybe younger than that. I can't remember now. I do know I was walking with a limp, so this was after the fateful field trip when my class met Batman.

We all wanted to be heroes for that little while. If I hadn't stepped in, someone else probably would have. I didn't see it that way at the time.

There was this shrimpy little kid in my class, Patrick Jones. The other kids called him Patsy. "Pasty Patsy's mom's a fatsy." Little bastards.

So, one day on the playground, this meaty son of a bitch called Travis gave Pasty Patsy an atomic wedgie and then started to beat him senseless with his own shoes.

I didn't like that.

So I attacked the kid and broke his nose. He sat on me and broke my arm. I was suspended for picking a fight, and that was the end of a brief and profitless crimefighting career.

"She's a sucker for a wounded puppy," Lexy said, looking about ready to pinch my widdle cheeks.

"No, I'm not an animal lover." My weakness is kids. "I'm just the girl you call when you've got a dirty job that needs doing. And since I guess it's safe to assume that this guy needs to die, I'm your man."

More staring.

"You understand there will be no payment involved," Scarecrow said finally.

"Yeah, like an international jewel thief with her own island in the South Pacific really needs more money." (I don't actually own that island, but, funny story, I am worshipped as a goddess by the natives.) "Come on, I just want something to do. That, and an answer to my question, Eddie, but I can wait a little while for that."

Still more staring. The boss is never going to forgive me for hitting the Scarecrow without making the "you wouldn't hit a guy with glasses" joke. Of course, at the time, I didn't know he wore them. My nerd alarms have failed me.


	2. Chapter 2

Poison Ivy was not happy to see four masked weirdos at her front door, one of them a known accomplice of the Bats. Curse my torrid past. It was only one time! I was young and stupid and I needed the money!

Yeah. We actually had to knock her out to get in the house. Scarecrow got squeezed by one of her vines, and the thorns tore a chunk out of his arm, but other than that, he's fine. The rest of us are unscathed.

It was great to see Harley again. Finally, someone who doesn't flinch every time I inhale. I'm not a fucking threat, pallies!

Oh, well.

"Hey, Chucks," Harley said, completely unfazed, when she saw me. "What'dja to to Red?"

"Oh, not much, Har." (I know everyone calls her Harl, but…that hurts me to say. Besides, if she can condense my nickname, then I can shorten hers.) "She'll be fine in a little while. We just came to warn you that someone's coming after you."

"Really? Is it Mr. J?" Poor dear, she sounded so hopeful. God, I got over my little infatuation the first time I saw him sacrifice his Pooh in the interest of a hasty retreat. But I think this poor sap will be in love with him until the day she dies.

"I'm afraid, dear child, that it's something far worse than that," said the Scarecrow. He sounded so adorably happy to see her, like a kindly father figure type. So cute!

"Hey! Professor Crane! I didn't recognize you. Is that a new mask?" She gave him a hug. "And who've you got there with you? No, don't tell me. It's more fun to guess. But keep your masks on. The air around here will kill you."

Eddie said something completely unintelligible.

"He said, 'How does a boat show affection?'" I said. It could have been an accurate translation for all I know.

"It hugs the shore, you crazy Riddler."

"Nnnnnn!" he said as she squeezed him in a bear hug.

Yikes. I should have warned her about the injuries. He may be starting to heal, but you can just tell he's going to hang onto those scars. That hug couldn't have made him feel better.

Well, nothing interesting happened after that. We're just waiting.

--

Oh, shit.

I just had to go and ask for something interesting, didn't I?

There's something wrong with Crane.

I'm afraid.

--

So about five minutes ago, the Scarecrow just collapsed. For a minute there, I thought he was dead, that maybe his gas mask had a leak. Then I heard this faint giggling coming from under the mask.

"You're sooooo pretty," he said, very slowly. "I like you."

"You don't like me, Dr. Crane," I reminded him.

"Heee…" Oh, God. "I like your costume. It's so shiny. And black. And…" He kind of reached for me and missed. He followed the path of his hand through the air and transferred his attention to the others. "Harley! Lexy! We," he said very dramatically, "should have cookies."

"Um…yeah…cookies," Harley said nervously.

"I liiiiike cookies."

"What's wrong with him?" I whispered. Lexy tried to help him sit up. He fell, all boneless, across her lap.

"Lexy, you're my favorite," he mumbled. "You are. Arrrrrr. Yarrrrrrr."

"Did Red get him with one of those thorny vines?" Harley asked.

"Yarrrrrrg."

"Um, yes," I said. Damn, I should have figured those thorns had some kind of poison in them.

"That's not so bad, then. She uses the happy thorns when she doesn't want to kill 'em right off. It'll wear off in a couple of hours."

"Hours?"

"Or maybe days. I don't know how much of the stuff got in him."

"Harley, we don't have days! Lock-Up could be here any minute! Isn't there an antidote?"

"Well, maybe Red could come up with something if you hadn't knocked her out."

About this time, I thought I heard Lexy crying. I couldn't see her face behind the mask, of course. All I saw was the Scarecrow hugging her. Cuddle, cuddle, snuggle, snuggle.

"Never mind. We don't need him," I said. "Lexy, do you know how to use his fear toxin?"

"Sure, no problem." Yeah, she was definitely crying. She started taking off his clothes.

"Not on the first date," he said.

"Shh. It's time for bed, Jonathan. Wouldn't you like a nice nap?"

"But I want to stay in the garden."

"I'll show you a much nicer garden, okay?" She removed all the canisters and tubing and buttoned up his shirt.

"You can put him in my room. He oughta be safe in there," Harley said.

"Upsy daisy," he said when the two of them dragged him to his feet.

This is not good. Granted, I like the guy better when he's not acting like a smarmy bastard. But it would have been nice to have his help. I'm not sure I like letting Lexy fill his shoes. As for Eddie, he's likely to be completely useless. I would have suggested leaving him behind, but I don't like the idea of leaving the poor guy alone and defenseless.

So that leaves me (still shaky from the multiple doses of fear toxin, but better than I've felt before a few big fights) Harley (probably an asset, maybe a liability) and Ivy, who's waking up.

--

Somebody got up on the wrong side of the flowerbed.

What kind of freak uses sentient pot as a security system, anyway?

I've got another one here who doesn't want to be my pal. Oh, the pain. Oh, the loneliness. Oh, the apathy.

Oh, fucking well.

Harley's back, in costume, with her boxing glove gun. Lexy has the Scarecrow's fear toxin, and she traded masks with him for added effect. Ivy has her plants. I have an axe.

Eddie is babysitting our totally wasted friend, Dr. Crane.

I wonder how this Lock-Up character is going to feel when he gets beaten up by a bunch of girls.

--

Waiting.

--

Still waiting.

--

I'm getting bor

--

Aw, hell. I'll never get all this blood out of my costume. I feel sick.


	3. Chapter 3

So he showed. Mid-sentence, too. I hate getting interrupted in the middle of a damn word.

This guy was smarter than I expected. Bigger, too. He makes old Batsy look as slender as a young willow.

He was smart enough to wear a gas mask, which tipped me off that he wasn't a total moron. He was also smart enough to spray himself down with some kind of herbicide. Ivy's vines wouldn't touch him.

He's studied, I'll give him that. He knew enough to take out the biggest threat first. I'll admit I was taken by surprise when he pulled out this fucking bazooka and shot Poison Ivy.

Turned out just to be a net gun. Pinned her to the wall and electrocuted her. Might not have taken all the fight out of her, but it took her out of the fight.

Harley shot him in the stomach with her boxing glove. He doubled over.

"Get his mask off," I yelled. If we could do that, it was only a matter of time.

Lexy grabbed for it. He knocked her away. She went down hard. Not a fighter, that one.

I swung at him with the axe. He blocked. I should have chosen a weapon less reliant on physical strength. But Lexy didn't have a gun. And I like axes.

My second shot caught him in the left shoulder. Broke the skin but not the bone. Just enough to make him drop the gun. Harley shot him again, in the face. Knocked him over backwards. Lexy snatched off his mask.

"Mr. _Bolton_?" She sounded furious. Harley and I sat on the guy's arms to hold him down.

"You know him?"

She punched him in the face. Take that as a yes.

"You told me you'd take care of him!" She punched him again. "I trusted you!" Punched him again. And again. The skin on her knuckles split open. He wasn't even bruised.

"Just hit him with the fear gas, Lex," I said. So she did.

Um…whoops.

Apparently, I'm not the only one with the ability to channel fear into anger, and anger into action.

As soon as he stopped choking on the gas, he spoke the first words I ever heard from him:

"No! The prisoners are escaping!"

He effortlessly heaved me and Harley off of him, focusing all his attention on Lexy, the pygmy Scarecrow. He threw her up against the wall. He…hurt her.

This is what he did to Eddie. This is what he would have done to scrawny little Dr. Crane and cute little Harley and anyone else he could get his hands on. This is what he did to hospital patients who couldn't fight back. This is what he does to a woman, a civilian, a girl who's begging him to stop.

The fear toxin is no excuse. This man is a bully. A creep. A lowlife bastard.

I couldn't watch. I picked up the axe and buried it in his back. This time, I made sure to hit hard enough to go through the bone.

He went down. So did Lexy. I pulled the axe out of him while Harley got Ivy out of the net. I was raising it for another blow when Harley came back, playing with a little plastic flower.

"Hang on, Chucks." For the first time since I've known her, there was not a trace of laughter in her voice. "I think he should die laughing." She held the flower under his nose and squeezed, spraying him with a cloud of mauve. He started to giggle. Resourceful little minx.

"Is little Lyle going to die happy?" Poison Ivy said in that sultry voice of hers. "I know how to make him really happy."

She kissed him.

Oh, God.

Between the poison in the air, the Scarecrow's fear toxin, the Joker's laughing gas, and Poison Ivy's pheromones, something…interacted…badly. And his face, um…exploded.

Poor Ivy.

So I took the axe, and…I dismembered him, and…we buried him, and…I feel sick.

I feel sick. I feel sick. I feel sick.


	4. Chapter 4

I feel better now. God, I don't usually react this way. But they don't usually explode. And…I kind of broke a rule. It's a stupid rule, I know, but I've never broken it before.

Don't kill anyone who hasn't already committed murder himself. Downright retarded rule, actually. Boss didn't approve. Neither did Bats. For different reasons, of course.

And here I am feeling guilty about killing a man who was going to kill me and my friends and a few other people for good measure. Damn, would I really feel better if I had let him kill Lexy before I took off his head?

But he exploded. His head! His head exploded!

God.

We put Lexy in Harley's bed next to the Scarecrow. She probably needs to go to a hospital, but what kind of explanation would we give? Freak tetherball accident?

When he saw her, Scarecrow grabbed her and wouldn't stop snuggling. Now she's in there crying again because her best friend has to get stoned out of his mind to want to hug her.

Eddie is a nervous wreck. I think it's all this blood on me. Harley changed into civvies right after we cleaned the kitchen, and Ivy is still in the shower, but I'm kind of stuck like this.

His face exploded.

God.

In the morning, I'll take the kiddies back to Lexy's apartment. I think it's about time for me to be hitting the old dusty trail. I hope the boys will be good enough to take care of Lexy until she's feeling better. She's going to want someone around.

I suppose I should try to get some sleep. Everyone else is. But I never could sleep well in a house full of strangers. I mean, I know that somewhere out there in the dark is Poison Ivy, who doesn't like me and wants me out of her house, the Scarecrow, who doesn't like me and is in no state of mind to understand the concept of restraint, and Lexy, who doesn't much like me and would be no fit backup even if she did.

And right next to me is Eddie, who doesn't like me and is completely terrified of me, too.

I don't know why Harley thought it would be a good idea for us to sleep together on the fold-out couch. It wouldn't be the first time she's tried to play matchmaker with a couple of friends, if that's what she's doing, but she should know by now that it never ends well.

He's scrunched up over in the corner, as far from me as he could get without falling off, sleeping fitfully. Bad dreams.

Well, people like us don't last long by sleeping soundly.

--

Damn uncomfortable crying in this mask.

I was just sitting there, watching him sleep, thinking of the past and wishing I could do something good for a change. I don't know what impulse drove me to reach out and touch him, but I did. I stroked his tousled brown hair and thought of Mark. I never cuddled with my boy. I never petted him or soothed a skinned knee or rocked him to sleep. I wish to God I had.

I could feel a change in Eddie right away. All I was doing was brushing his hair with my fingers, but he seemed to melt under my touch. He went very still, the wrinkles in his forehead smoothed out, he even stopped hugging himself and let his arms fall to his sides. I wonder how long its been since he had anyone to comfort him. Other than Lexy.

Thinking of her, I felt it was time to sing. I never sing. I hate my voice. But it was time to sing.

"Lullaby and goodnight, let your…brown eyes close tight." (Funny, as obsessed as I am with eye color, I never noticed Eddie's. I just sang brown because that's what my mother sang to me.) "Fair angels are near, so sleep without fear. They will guard you from harm with their dreamland's sweet charm. They will guard you from harm…" That's when it hit me, hard.

My short-term memory may be nearly photographic, but my long-term memory is shit. I can't remember my mother's face or my father's laugh. I can hear the Joker's laugh, sure. I can see my mother's hair framing any number of black masks.

They died while I was out playing jewel thief. They died, and I hardly noticed.

The last thing I ever said to them was that I was too busy to leave school for a visit to Bludhaven. Then I went away to find myself, and they were killed by bad fish. Fish.

I'm never going to see them again.

So, the next thing I knew, I was crying and hugging Eddie like a teddy bear. Didn't even realize I'd woken him up until I felt him struggling to get away from me.

So, great. Now I've scared the hell out of Eddie and myself. I have this desperate urge to go home, and I don't even have a home to go to.

I think I'm just going to hang out in the bathroom until they're ready to go.

--

Harley may not be the brightest, but, as always, I'm going to miss her. She's really not as dumb as she appears to be, just a tad shortsighted and delightfully mad.

Ivy, I think, is a good influence on her. I wish them both the best.

Back at Lexy's apartment, Scarecrow is finally coming down off his high. He's still trying to do the E.T. thing to her bruised face, though. Boy, is he going to be pissed, later. I believe he actually loves her.

She insists that I stick around for a little while, at least grab a nap and have something to eat before I go. Fine. I'm feeling antsy and I want to be off, but, hell, I'm not even sure where I'm going next.

--

_Questions to ask yourself:_

_What's more important, life or death?_

_Why is seven a lucky number?_

_What is the color of vengeance?_

_Why was help so close when it was needed?_

_Why were you there?_

_Why are you here?_

_Who else knows the answers?_

_Thanks for your help._

_E. Nygma_

--

Eddie…you clever little bastard. I'm going to miss you.

Didn't open this notebook again until I was long gone from Lexy's place. I drove all the way out to the burbs to visit my brother. Parked in front of his house. Opened my notebook to make some notes, and saw handwriting that didn't belong to me.

I'll have to ponder it later, though. I'm going in.

--

Well, Eric sure was surprised to see me. I should have changed first. I didn't mean to scare the children.

Last I checked, he had two babies. Looks like number three will be here any day now. Michael is five now, Hilary is three, and Eva is so grotesquely pregnant, I suddenly don't want to have a baby. Eric is going bald. Isn't he too young for that? He's 27. He's gained weight.

They all crowded around the doorway, staring at me. They didn't invite me in.

"I just wanted to say hi," I said. They kept staring. "I know it's been a while. I thought it was time."

"You gots blood on you," said my nephew. His mother shushed him.

"Liss, are you hurt? Are you here because you need help?" He looked like he was dreading my answer to that question.

"Since when have I ever needed help with anything? It's not my blood." A mixture of relief and disgust on his face. "I brought presents."

"We don't want them." Eva and the children didn't look like they agreed with him.

"Before you get all high and mighty on me, big brother, ask yourself if you'll be able to put three kids through college, working a job like yours. I can afford it now, but when I die, I can't legally leave you anything I've earned. Or stolen, whatever you want to call it. I consider what I do a job, and I'm good at it, so I want you to let me help out my nieces and nephews, just because I can." (I'm not really that good at it, am I? But I've had my success. I guess that's almost the same thing.)

"Are you planning on dying any time soon?" he asked.

"Yeah, I am. People like me have to plan on dying soon."

"You could retire."

"Tried it. Didn't work out. I'm not cut out for your kind of life. I tried teaming up with Batman, too. Didn't work out. I'm not going to change my evil ways."

"You're friends with Batman?" the kid asked with this look of hero-worship in his eyes.

"Sure am. You want me to tell him you said hi?"

"Wow! Do you know Superman?"

"Mmm-hmm. And Wonder Woman."

"And Aquaman?" Well, I never met Aquaman. But the kid wasn't waiting for answers. "And the Flash? Green Arrow? Green Lantern? And the one with the wings? Are you a superhero, too?"

"No, I don't have any superpowers."

"Neither does Batman," he said with a satisfied smile.

I hope he's not too disappointed when he finds out what I really do.

I gave my brother the keys to my car.

"Go get your presents. If you don't like yours, you don't have to hold onto them, but at least let the kids keep their toys."

While they were opening up my trunk, I pulled that disappearing act Bats taught me. Now I'm taking the bus back to Gotham. Always back to Gotham.

I should have known my brother wouldn't be happy to see me. We've never been all that close. But I'm glad I saw him, and I'm glad I got to meet the kids.

Now, back to business, I guess.

Thanks, Eddie.

What's more important, life or death?

Does that mean…that the survivors were the target of the attack? Were we allowed to live for a reason? A message? A punishment? A reward? Who were the other survivors, and what do we have in common?

Why is seven a lucky number?

I don't know. I never believed in that kind of thing. I'll have to get some help on this one.

What is the color of vengeance?

I don't know. That's a weird one. But the light I saw in the sky was green. Does that mean anything?

Why was help so close when it was needed?

Because…they knew what was going to happen?

Why were you there?

I was ready to retire. I had my child. I wanted to take us over to England where we could live in peace. I wanted us both to have a normal life. No capes, no masks, you know?

Why are you here?

Because Superman saved me.

No. That's not right. It was Wonder Woman who saved me from drowning. Superman saved me from falling, later. But Batman is the one who really saved me.

Who else knows the answers?

I guess I'll find out. I'm on my way to the Batcave.


	5. Chapter 5

I should have changed first. Mr. Fusty answered the door and immediately offered to let me freshen up.

I wish I had a fustykins. The closest I ever had was Candy, and as fond as I was of her, she was an underage Italian prostitute whose idea of clean was…well, I don't want to think about it.

She's in the movies now. Legitimate. I'm proud of her. (That first one turned out very _giallo._ I love it.)

Fusty (whose real name I'd better not use, you know, just in case) provided me with "more suitable clothing" and use of the facilities. B. has very nice shampoo.

He should be back soon.

I forgot how nice it is here. Like a little world outside of it all. I'm sitting in front of a blazing fire. My hair is wet, but I'm toasty warm. The room is comfortable, but with an empty feel to it. This is his home, but he doesn't live here.

He lives out there. Out where he is now.

Batman.

I remember the first time he saved me from the Joker. He reminded me of my father.

He treated me like a daughter when I was here before. Taught me to fly the Batplane.

He's younger than my father, but not young. And all the masks like to take potshots at him. If this crap is hard on me, it must be hell for him. And yet, he does this every night, for no other reason than because it's the right thing to do.

In many ways, I admire the man.

Damn creative differences.

Fusty served me a late supper. Good tea. I do love me a cup of real tea. Only the English really make it right. And the Chinese. God, but they made some good tea in China.

He probably won't be back until dawn. I told Fusty he could go to bed. Even I'm not brazen enough to rob Batman's house.

Maybe F. thinks I can still be trusted. Maybe he's just feeling old. Maybe he's got Ba—that is, Oracle, watching the security camera. I don't know. All I really want to do right now is stay here in the library and read.

--

Damn it, Bats. You would come home the minute I fall asleep in your chair.

I hate getting caught all vulnerable like that.

No telling how long he was there before I woke up. No telling what he read in my posture, my movement, my reaction when I saw him.

"If you needed a place to stay, you could have called first." He was still cowled, but he spoke to me in his human voice.

"I just came to talk."

"You're the one who decided we had nothing to talk about." He didn't sit, so I stood. Realized all over again just how big, how massive, how powerful he really is. Good guy to have on your side. Bad guy to have as an enemy.

"Batman…you look at me and you think you see something worth saving. You're wrong. There's nothing for you to save me from."

"Maybe. Why did you come back here?"

"I just met the Riddler. I'd like some help answering the questions he gave me. Oh, and some weirdo creep called Lock-Up attacked a friend of mine. I thought you should know, he's not with us anymore."

"Lock-Up?"

"Lock-Up." (I almost chuckled.) "A security guard from Arkham, once. He's dead. He deserved it."

Batman gave me this look, like he was sorely disappointed in me.

"Did he?"

I forced a Jokerish laugh.

"Spare me, Batsy. He deserved worse than he got." Batman saw me shivering and reached out to touch me. I pulled away. "I'm not cold, and I don't need your little lecture, okay?"

"Whatever you say." God, I hate it when he pulls this I-don't-really-believe-you crap.

"Look, I just wanted to ask you some questions."

"About?"

"You know what about."

He sighed, looked out the window, sighed again.

"We can talk later. We _will_ talk later. But…"

I followed his gaze. Batsignal.

"It never ends…"

"Never."

"Do you need backup, Bats? I could come with you…for a lark." Not for old time's sake. For the love of God, don't tell him that.

"You're tired. Stay here. You know where the guest room is." Ha. Funny.

"Don't you ever get tired, -----?" This is me using his real name. This is me acting like we're almost real friends.

"People like us can't afford to get tired."

God, I hate it when he does this. Includes me as one of them. Makes me feel like I'm worth something.

Part of the team. I never will be, but he always makes me feel welcome. Just like my father. No matter what I did, I was always his daughter. The only thing that kept me from being a part of the family was my own stupidity.

Hell, I don't belong in this family, and we both know it.

But I do feel safe enough to sleep here. I wonder if he knows what that means.

--

He was at the day job when I woke up this morning. Fusty says he didn't want to wake me. I wonder if he's just avoiding an uncomfortable chat.

Over morning coffee, Fusty and I watched a news report about a man who committed suicide by throwing himself out of the window of his hospital room. I was more interested in my coffee (which the English do not make well) until I heard a familiar name.

"…widow Alexis Murphy refused to comment."

And they showed a clip of Lexy, banged up but looking much better, slamming a door in a reporter's face. Behind her in the room, clearly visible even without his trademark green suit, was dear old Eddie.

Damn it. I'm heading over.

I'm not the only one who watches TV.

Please let me get there before the boss.

--

Oh, God, they're gone. Door kicked in, furniture overturned, bullet holes. Don't see any blood. Maybe they're still alive.

Will Batman help me with this?

Am I really going to go up against the boss?

I don't know what to do.

--

Fuck! Fuck shit fuck!

Wish people wouldn't sneak up on me like that. My heart's still racing.

But I'm thanking God I'm not in this alone.

Scarecrow's here with his two goons—his only two goons. I guess a guy like him doesn't need to employ an army. Not like the Joker, I guess, I guess.

He's enjoying this, watching me prepare to face my greatest fear. But I'm guessing he's scared, too.

--

Okay! Harley's coming with us. Not Ivy. She would only antagonize the Joker, and we can't have that.

We're not strong enough to rush in like Batman, guns a-blazing. We're going to have to negotiate.

Harley should be good for that, if he's in the mood to care about her today. She'll tell him how the four of us came to save her from Lock-Up, and maybe he'll be encouraged to be a little more lenient.

We're on our way, we're on our way. I've felt for years that he was going to be the one to kill me. Maybe today will be the day.

Or maybe he'll be in a forgiving mood. Heh…

Or maybe Bats will show up just in the nick of time. I'm not counting on that. I should have told Fusty why I had to leave.

I can trade myself to save them. I can do it. He might accept it. Maybe. At least I can try. Eddie doesn't deserve to be hurt any more, and Lexy is probably the only really good person I've met in years. She should be saved. She deserves better than whatever the Joker will do to her.

I guess the real question is, what will he do to me?


	6. Chapter 6

'Kay, that was different.

We were approaching the front door, when who did we find lying in the gutter but Eddie.

I helped him up, expecting a trap. Nothing. He was dazed from a bump to the noggin, his nose a little bloody, his ribs maybe a little more tender than they had been, but he wasn't really any worse off than this time yesterday.

"Jesus Christ, Eddie, what happened to you this time?" I asked. He seems to have lost his fear of me. He actually leaned on me as I walked him to the car.

"He…let me go."

"Let you go?" We did not go to all this trouble, I did not work myself up to such a fearful frenzy, for such an anticlimactic ending.

"He asked a question, I answered it. He let me go."

"What about Lexy?" the Scarecrow asked.

Aye, there's the rub.

What is it with the boss and twenty-year-old girls? Some kind of kinky clown bondage fantasy? I mean, what the hell?

Eddie stayed in the car. No sense dragging him back into the belly of the beast.

In we went.

The boss is always the boss. He never changes. Not so much as his purple zoot suit. Every time I see him, I get this little flash of fascination, of sick attraction. I can't help it. I do know how very wrong this is. I guess I'm really no better than Harley when it comes to resisting his charms.

He was smiling when we came in. Even that never changes. Three of his goons (thoroughly his, no loyalty to me) had escorted us from the front door to the throne room, holding guns to our heads. We were (or appeared to be) unarmed.

Lexy was there, bound and gagged, looking like Princess Leia chained to a very thin Jabba the Hutt. She had been crying. She cries too easily, I think.

"Puddin'!" Harley cried, and threw herself into his arms, all past quarrels forgotten.

"Welcome home, Harley." At least he was happy to see her. "Hullo, there, Chuckles. Didn't you fall to your doom?"

"Eh, not quite, boss. Aren't you the one who taught me that bottomless pits are a notoriously unreliable means of death?" That made him giggle. I love it when I can make him laugh. Reminds him why he keeps me around.

"Good show, then. But I see you've taken up with the Scarecrow, haven't you? Tut, tut. Your taste in companions has hit a new low. I mean, leaving me for old Batsy was bad enough, but this stick in the mud?"

"Any association between the two of us is strictly temporary and born of necessity, Joker, I assure you," said the Scarecrow. "I'm just here for the girl." Shit, I could have told him stiff and grouchy wouldn't work on my boss.

"Uh-huh. It's awfully rude of you not to introduce your other friends." He waved a negligent finger.

The gunshots on either side of me were ridiculously loud. Our two guys—Harry and Wally—crumpled. I looked down and saw that they just kind of stopped from the neck up. I had God knows what all over my borrowed shoes.

"Hey! I liked one of those guys," I protested.

"Do you know how hard it is to find good help?" Scarecrow added.

"I have some idea." He smiled benignly at me. "What about you, Chuck? What do you want from your good old Uncle Joker?"

"Like the man says, boss. I want her to go free."

"Really? You came all the way down here just for her? Not for dear Eddums?" Oh, creepy. We gave the guy the same nickname. That can't be a good sign for me. Unless the boss just picked it up from my last notebook. But it does sound like something he'd say, doesn't it? Oh, hell.

I decided to lie about Eddie.

"Look, boss, just because I feel sorry for a guy doesn't mean I'm going to try to take him out of your hands. Especially _after_ he's answered all my questions."

"Ruthless. I applaud." True to his word, he clapped his hands delightedly. "But about the kid, why should I let her go? She has no sense of humor. What could she possibly have to contribute to the world?"

"Well, you remember that little suicide mission you sent me on? She helped me out of that. And she also helped save Harley from a deranged maniac of the murderous variety."

"Uh-huh, it's true." Nice contribution, Harley. Very helpful, thanks.

"You're boring me. Is there anything else, or can I shoot her now?"

"Aw, come on, boss. I brought back Harley, so you have your loving spoonful. I'm here, yet again, to hench for you—and you know I'm good enough not to need a boss anymore, and everyone else knows it, too. With me working under you, your ratings would go right through the roof." I let the tone of my voice turn that into a teasing little double entendre. "And I brought you a guy you don't like much. I don't know what you could do with the Scarecrow, but I'm sure you'll think of something."

Surprise, Scarecrow.

At least, I assume that's what he was feeling when he turned his face toward me. Like me, he wears a mask that covers the whole face. So much better to keep yourself in and everything else out. The only part of his face I could read was his icy blue eyes.

Fury.

Oh, good one, Liss. Wishing that I had worn my costume and never mind the blood, I tried to tell him without giving myself away that it was all just a trick.

"You know, Chuckles, you're not as good as you think you are," the Joker said just before the Scarecrow released his fear toxin, flooding the room with white smoke.

Standing right next to him, maskless, I probably got the worst of it.

I heard gunshots. Couldn't see where they went. Heard people screaming, "spiders!" and "no air!" and "Puddin'!" and "Batman!" Heard a little boy calling my name. Heard the Joker's wild laughter.

Out of the fog came Lexy and the Scarecrow. She was hysterical, breathing in the toxin. He led her on calmly. They walked around my body as I lay helpless on the floor. They didn't stop.

They were gone. I heard laughter. Knew he was coming for me. Saw…exploding faces.

_Got to get out._

I crawled to the door, dragged myself out to the relative safety of the hallway, where the fog of fear was not so thick. I couldn't make it any farther. Just huddled in the corner, waiting for HIM to come out and kill me.

Then I felt a pair of hands on my arms, urging me to stand up.

"Come on. Get up. It's not safe here."

"Batman? You came to rescue me?" I could see nothing but my own blood-splattered feet. I may or may not have mentioned Fusty out loud. Here's hoping I didn't.

"Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home. Your house is on fire and your children will burn."

Scarecrow. Suddenly, nothing scared me more than that gangly little man.

"What do you want? Leave me alone! I was just bluffing, okay? Did I just tell you Mr. Fusty's real name? Tell me I didn't."

"You didn't. Get up." I let him drag me to my feet because it was easier than resisting. "Now, put one foot in front of the other. We need to leave."

"But…why would you help me?" I asked as I followed him down the hall. "What do you want?"

"I know you're afraid. Deal with it. You'll survive."

"But what do you want from me?" It was so important for me to know. It actually mattered. It would have made a difference. Sure.

He opened the door and took me outside.

"I want my…I want Lexy to stop crying about what she thinks the Joker is doing to you. That's all I want from you." I didn't believe him, not even when he opened the car door and let me fall across Lexy and Eddie's laps.

Lexy hugged me. Eddie patted me in an awkward but friendly kind of way. I heard the Scarecrow mutter something about becoming a nursemaid. I heard the Joker's laugh.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up here.

A library. I always have enjoyed the smell of books. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a writer so I could surround myself with paper and ink. I covered my girly pink wallpaper with comic strips cut from the newspaper just because I loved the smell.

So, what is this, the fourth time he's gassed me this week? Fucking ridiculous.

But I am grateful for the rescue. He could have left me there. He really had no way of knowing I wasn't actually going to betray him.

I guess it goes without saying that the two of us are never going to be friends. But I don't think we have to be enemies.

Lexy's doing much better now that the toxin's out of her system. I guess I owe her one. She says we're even.

I can see how much she wants to stay with her Scarecrow. I can see how much he wants to keep her. I don't think it's going to work out.

The worst thing that can happen to guys like us, a friend once told me, is to find love. Death is nothing next to that. They say it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Not for us. When we love, we always lose. The lucky ones, the smart ones, never love anything but themselves. Then they have only themselves to lose.

Joker had him killed soon after he told me that.

Eddie could go now, if he wanted. He hasn't left yet. I like to think that he's staying here out of gratitude to Lexy, and maybe even to me. But maybe he's just scared of being alone. I can understand that. Sometimes it's nice to have friends, even if you and your friends don't particularly like each other.

I know Lexy will take care of him as long as he chooses to stay with her. I know I could stay, too, but I won't.

It's time for me to go back to the Batcave. I think I'm just recording all these thoughts because I don't want to leave yet.

Thought: the boss will be coming after them again sometime. I should help with that. They'll need all the help they can get.

--

All right, I'm gone. I'm on the bus to you-know-where. I think if I tell him how and where, Bats will apprehend the Joker and put him away in Arkham. That won't hold him long, but chances are by the time he gets out, he'll have forgotten all about Lexy and the Scarecrow. Especially if I can paint a big red bulls-eye on someone else's ass.

To the Batcave, Robin.


	7. Chapter 7

Good old Fusty never seems surprised to see me. He was taken aback by the state of my shoes, though.

"Really, now, Miss, I thought you were going to take better care of yourself than that."

"It was an emergency. I'll buy you a new pair."

He gave me this look more intimidating than anything the Batman could ever do.

"The shoes belong to a young lady who is almost certainly not coming back to claim them. My comment was directed solely toward yourself."

"That's touching, old man, but I'm fine. Is ----- in?"

--

Short wait.

Think I have a little of that stuff still in me. I hugged him, I was so glad to see him. Surprised the hell out of him.

"Liss? What's wrong?"

"I'm having a bad day. You know what it's like for someone to have a bad day in this city."

I filled him in as concisely as I could. Only what he needed to know. Still felt a little exposed telling him about it. Just because he's all father-figurey doesn't mean I trust him that much.

But he trusts me enough to follow my advice when I tell him the Joker's easy pickings.

He's gone. Didn't offer to take me with him, this time. With the boss, he never does.

I'm waiting for Fusty to warm up the Bat-Computer. The Batcave looks so familiar, and yet so different. There's a new display case just behind me with a Robin costume inside.

I haven't seen Robin around, or heard of him adventuring with Bats since just after I left last year. I miss the kid. Batman has avoided talking about him. I can only assume something terrible happened. Or he went off to college like Nightwing. Some falling-out? Maybe he's still out there, somewhere. Or maybe he retired.

I guess Batman thinks I don't need to know.

--

Survivors. Seven of us, all connected somehow to a cape or a mask. Girlfriend, boyfriend, assistant, secretary, sidekick, whatever you want to call it. Did WW just go for us first because she recognized us? But that wouldn't explain the masks, just the capes. Right?

Grand coincidence? I doubt that.

--

I wouldn't have known who half these people were if Bats and Oracle didn't keep such meticulous records on every little thing. Interesting.

Oracle, the good old disembodied voice, suggested I should spend my time on the Bat computer learning more about the other Capes. Like Green Lantern. I think she's just stalling me until Batman gets back.

What the hell do I care about a guy with a magic decoder ring? Nobody should get their superpowers from the bottom of a box of cereal.

--

In brightest day, in darkest night

No evil shall escape my sight

Let those who worship evil's might

Beware my power, Green Lantern's light

--

Pretty powerful set of magic words there, Trev.

One of their guys got his own special chant.

--

In loudest din or hush profound

My ears catch evil's slightest sound

Let those who toll out evil's knell

Beware my power: the F-Sharp Bell

--

You know what? By the power of Greyskull, I HAVE THE POWER. Bitch.

--

God, I'm tired of this. All of this. The runaround. The questions. The lies. The effort. The pain. All of it.

I'm so tired of all of this.

--

I left. I didn't get my answers. It doesn't matter anymore, does it?

I left. A----- followed me upstairs, but it wasn't his place to follow me out of the house. I hope he'll say goodbye to Batman for me. Dear grim protector, I'll miss you. But I'll never be a Batgirl. I don't know why I keep coming back.

God, I guess I just can't help myself. I just keep bouncing back and forth between the boss and the bat.

If I didn't think the boss would shoot me on sight, I would probably be going back to him right now.

--

Safe in a hotel room, all by my lonesome. I actually own this hotel, but they don't have to know that.

I bought this place because Mark liked the fountain in the lobby. I bought a lot of things after he died, things that reminded me of him. But nothing I did brought him back.

Nothing I ever do will bring him back to me.

I need to get out of Gotham. I want to go home.

--

Hey, guess who's immune to the Scarecrow's fear toxin.

I love it when the Joker sneaks up on me. He actually came to me to hide him from Batman. Fucking ridiculous.

I left him in my hotel room. He abandoned Harley and the others to their fate. Let him save his own skin if Bats catches up with him.

Amazing. I seem to have run out of CARE.

--

Batman came up behind me as I was sitting on a park bench just after sunset. I told him not to waste his time on me, and eventually he left me alone.

Some goodbye. Sorry, Bats, but I don't really want you to know this is my last night in Gotham.

I hope he doesn't see this as his failing. I hope he knows I never wanted to rely on him. I never could have been his child.

After Batman, I went walking through the slums. Beautiful Gotham comes to life at night, the most beautiful city in the world. In a dark alley, I saw two groups of children murdering each other for territory the survivors won't live long enough to hold. By the light of a glowing neon sign, I watched painted seraphim reaching out to passersby for even the illusion of fleeting human love. Under a flickering streetlight, the only one left on the block, I stood looking up at the crumbling, boarded-up damn abandoned library where I left Lexy, Eddie, and the Scare…and Jonathan.

I didn't come back to rejoin them. I just wanted to say a quick goodbye. To Lexy, who's too sweet for this kind of life. To Eddums, who just needs a hug. And to Jonathan, who, damn it, I'm actually starting to like in spite of myself. How much would that piss him off if he knew it? Especially if he knew I was using his first name.

They've moved on. I don't know where.

I'm sitting in the airport now, waiting for my time to fly.

All I can think about is that night after my son died, how I sat on the roof of the hospital, gazing down at the lights of Gotham City, dreaming of flight. He was my son, if only for a little while. He was my son and I loved him.

For so long, I've fantasized about finding his killer. And taking him down. In a sleek black dress and a thousand dollar fur coat I would gun him down in a fiery blaze of vengeance.

I can't. It's out of my hands.

He was a very small man who tried to steal powers too vast for him to use. He failed. He died. Before I even left the hospital for the Batcave, the man I wanted was already dead, a victim of his own folly. The douchebag. He cheated me of my vengeance. He _died!_

I was right the first time around, laying the blame on myself. Punishing _myself_. I should have…I failed...

And that's what I learned from the bat-computer, teacher. That's what Batman never told me to my face. I guess he was trying to protect me, to shield me. I guess.

Well, I guess some questions will never be answered, and some questions shouldn't be. There will never be closure. Not in the real world.

I'll never know who stole Jonathan's fear toxin and supplied it to Lock-Up, or why. I hope he finds that answer. I hope not all vengeance is denied.

I'll never know whether or not Jonathan and Lexy will manage to work things out. But I hope they do. She wants so much to be his daughter, or his lover, or whatever it is she wants from him. There is genuine love between the two of them.

Love is not the greatest tragedy we can face. For people like us, to love and be loved in spite of all we do is the greatest possible triumph.

Believe in that, if you can believe in nothing else. I do.

I've almost reached the end. Lexy, my last and latest friend, I'm leaving this notebook in your care. Candy will send it to you with the rest. She's no longer a part of my life, but she was there for the best part of it, my little almost-sister. Tell her I love her. Tell them all.

I want you to know who I am and who I was and who I could have been and who I'll never be. I want someone to know.

I'm going away now. I'm going across the water, to a place where there is no Batman. And there is no Superman. And I will not be found.

It's time for my flight. I'll finally get the answer to at least one of my questions.

Will I go up and up and never hit the ground? Will a little boy reach down to take my hand and pull me up into the clouds?

I hope there is an answer.

But either way, I guess I'll keep it to myself.

The end of the page, the end of the notebook, the end of the world.

It's funny. I'm struck with a sudden fear of flying.

I wish you well. Goodbye.

With so much love it's not even funny,

Liss.


	8. Bonus Chapter

Author's note! Yes, this is the final notebook. Or, at least, this is Liss's last notebook. I'm wondering if perhaps Lexy should take on Liss's mask and notebooks and go out and get that closure Liss never found. Or maybe I should just leave well enough alone.

Well, in August, while writing The Mildewed Notebook, I toyed with the idea of turning the Notebooks into a comic book. The following scene would have been both the opening and closing of the book (or series, however it would have turned out.) But then in the course of editing the series, the character of the murderer was written out, and the ending was changed yet again (this being quite a drastic change from the _original_ ending...) So this little sequence can exist only as the dream that Liss cherished for so long.

Oh, and please do forgive any awkwardness. I'm not at all comfortable with sound effects, and my Italian is far less than passable.

* * *

PAGE 1

Panel 1:

Rome. A beautiful, posh hotel room. Liss, a woman in her mid-twenties, sits at a vanity table with her back to the camera, getting ready for a night out. Her hair is long, thick, a dark shade of auburn, very attention-getting, something she has probably spent a lot of time and effort on. She wears a black dress, low-cut and very sexy. Her body is lean and well-toned, her posture perfect. Tucked into the corner of the mirror is a picture of her, a few years younger and with a cool, punkish look to her, hugging a little dark-haired boy.

CAPTION: When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, "What will I be?"

Panel 2:

Closer shot of Liss in front of the mirror. Scattered about the table are various makeup items, an open jewelry box, a clock (the time is 7:49) a somewhat battered spiral-bound notebook, and a pen. Focus on Liss's reflection: she is only visible from the lower half of her face down. She is currently in the act of putting on vivid, blood-red lipstick. Around her neck is a beautiful emerald necklace.

CAPTION: "Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?" Here's what she said to me.

Panel 3:

Liss stands, looking out the window at the dusky cityscape. Her face is partially visible in profile. She looks just a bit troubled. Nervous, perhaps.

CAPTION: "Que serà, serà. Whatever will be, will be."

Panel 4:

Tight on Liss's hand as she reaches down for eyeliner. Include the clock, showing the time. (7:51)

CAPTION: "The future's not ours to see. Que serà, serà."

Panel 5:

Extreme close-up of Liss's brown eyes as she applies the eyeliner. She is definitely troubled, but more apprehensive than upset.

CAPTION: "What will be, will be."

PAGE 2:

Panel 1:

Liss stands again, once more looking out the window. Her face is still not completely visible, but her body language is tense. She is waiting for something, and not very patiently.

CAPTION: When I was just a child in school, I asked my teacher, "What should I try?"

Panel 2:

Liss sits at the table, writing in her notebook, resting her head on her left hand. At last, she is smiling. The time is 7:54.

CAPTION: "Should I paint pictures? Should I write books?"

Panel 3:

On the street outside the hotel, Liss is visible from behind, getting into the backseat of a nondescript (but very expensive) black car. She now wears a rather bulky fur coat over her slinky black dress. Her shoes are black boots, more functional than stylish, rather at odds with what else she's wearing. She appears calm now that she is on her way.

CAPTION: This was her wise reply…

Panel 4:

In the empty hotel room, on Liss's notebook, which she has left open on the table. There are only two words visible on the final open page: "It's time."

Panel 5:

Inside a very high-class restaurant, Liss enters, still viewed from behind. In front of her is an ordinary-looking man, rather handsome but nothing special, in a tuxedo. He is quite surprised to see her, and perhaps a little saddened as well.

MAN: "_Voi, donna bella_?"

LISS: "_Sì_."

Panel 6:

Liss throws her coat out to the sides. The man now looks deeply saddened. Everyone behind him is suddenly intent on Liss, many of them reaching inside their tuxedo jackets.

MAN: "_Perchè_?"

PAGE 3:

Panel 1:

On Liss, full view from the front for the first time. She holds a submachine gun in each hand, and looks almost sorry.

LISS: "_Poiché_."

SFX: BLAM BLAM BLAM

CAPTION: "QUE SERÀ, SERÀ."

Panel 2:

On Liss's enraptured face. This feels gloriously right. She is surrounded by the halo of light thrown up by her guns like some kind of hellish angel.

SFX: BLAM BLAM BLAM

CAPTION: "WHATEVER WILL BE, WILL BE."

Panel 3:

On Liss's target and his men, all of whom have drawn their concealed weapons and are firing back at Liss from cover. The target is hit and hiding. It's impossible to tell just how badly he's wounded. He could be dying. It could be just a flesh wound.

LISS: "_Sono la **morte** di voi_."

SFX: BLAM BLAM BLAM

Panel 4:

On Liss, who has not bothered to seek cover, looking rather surprised (but not terribly upset) as a bullet goes through her chest.

LISS: "Oh."

CAPTION: "The future's not ours to see."

SFX: BLAM BLAM BLAM

Panel 5:

The firing continues as Liss falls.

SFX: BLAM BLAM BLAM

Panel 6:

Tight on Liss as she lies on the floor, alive but wounded and unable to get up and continue her glorious, fiery vengeance. She strains to see her target and confirm that he is dead, or at least dying.

LISS (weak voice): "You first…"

PAGE 4:

Panel 1:

The men, no longer shooting but still holding their weapons at the ready, cluster around Liss. She has done them considerable damage. They do not look pleased. The target is not visible.

LISS (weakly): "Did I…_È morto_?"

Panel 2:

Close-up of Liss's face. She is pale and bloody and clearly in some amount of pain. Yet she smiles.

LISS (weakly): "Did I, did I not? Que serà, serà."

Panel 3:

Wider shot of the men clustered around our fallen heroine. She closes her eyes, feeling some measure of peace as they cock their guns. She reaches out for something that isn't there.

SFX: CLICK

Panel 4:

Picture blurs. Close-up of Liss's hand, held as if she's writing something, although there is no pen and no paper.

LISS (weakly): "What will be…"

Panel 5:

Picture clears. Flashback time! Liss is now several years younger (about 18-19) with hair pulled back from her face, looking very no-fuss and quite unlike her older self with the expensive clothes and jewelry. She is too awkward to be the beauty her future self will be, although she is not unattractive. She is not nearly as cool as the Liss of the photograph. This young Liss is also clearly not athletic and would hardly know which end of a gun to hold. The only parallel is the notebook—young Liss is scribbling something in a notebook (the purple cover is visible) and completely ignoring her surroundings; both the pleasant fall weather and the purple van coming up behind her. Two words are clearly visible on the notebook page: "will be."

LISS: "...will be."

* * *

Author's note: The repeat of this section at the end of the book would have replaced Panel 5 with a somewhat ambiguous closing image that would have hinted at the outcome, but not told it outright. Would Liss survive? Was her target dead, forever maimed, or would he just walk it off?

Well, I will say that in my mind, she would have gotten her revenge. As for her own fate, I can't rightly say. But rest assured, whether she lived or not, this would have been the end of her story.

Thank you all so much for sticking with me throughout this series, and for all your kind reviews and support. I hope you know how many cool points you have, oh Gentle Readers. It's all for you, for all of you.

Lurve,

3.0


End file.
